Rip Tide
by 3VAD127
Summary: Katara/Sokka sibling, no incest. Before they found Aang, all they had was each other; and like water, there were always two sides to the coin. “The siblings hadn’t flown before; nobody had. But after they met Aang, that pretty much went out the window.”
1. Anywhere But Home

**Disclaimer:** No poseo el _Avatar_.

**Author's Notes:** Another string of drabbles I started for no reason. These'll be mainly Sokka and Katara's life before they found Aang. Lots of old-fashioned familial stuff, but no incest. That's just nasty, and it should be pretty obvious by now that I don't roll that way.

Anywhere But Home

It was cold in the arctic, even though the sun was already high in the sky. The winds were nearly still, settling across the snow-covered valleys and mountaintops so silently that the atmosphere felt thin. The icy polar waters were warmed a few degrees above freezing as they lapped and splashed tamely across the creaking icebergs. A wharf, composed entirely of frozen water, jettisoned off of the ice shelf like a thin, bony finger into the cool seas.

A boy, dressed in traditional wolf warrior garb, sat on the edge of the frigid pier. And even though the coldness crept through his too-flimsy clothing and chilled his bones, he didn't move.

He was just thirteen. But watching those eight ships sailing off over the horizon, disappearing into the fog—it felt like a part of himself had gone missing. Slim, boyish fingers that could grip a boomerang so surely or an inking brush so clumsily now dug into the hard-packed snow atop the ice. Softly, he breathed out. The hardest day of his life. He could still remember the low murmur of voices as the cargo was being loaded, the creaking floor planks, the whooshing coils of rope. The soft _swish, swish_ of a blade being tested before battle.

A sudden drip disturbed the boy from his thoughts. Carefully, he touched his face paint. A stray bit of emotion had escaped and had carved a solitary path through his façade.

Like the confrontation with his father. _Being a man is knowing where you're needed the most._

Not here. On that boat, with those men, yes. Fighting, yes. Winning… yes. Anywhere but here.

Anywhere but home.

Then he heard the crunching of snow and the quiet, girlish voice he knew so well. "Sokka."

The warrior (_in training_) did not reply.

"You should come back home now." He shook her voice off. No. He didn't want to go back. "It's getting late. Gran-Gran's got supper on already."

The brother picked at a clump of snow on the dock. He knew her words were empty today, even though they were usually so full of fun or emotion or meaning. Why was this day so different? Why did she feel the need to lie to him? "Why are you here, Katara?" His young voice sounded high and broken even to his own ears.

He sensed her kneeling beside him, her thick parka brushing his arm. "For you," was her simple answer.

The boy pursed his lips, allowing his shoulders to hunch slightly. Maybe he could just hide for the rest of his life… Or even better—disappear forever. The sister continued, "I prayed to the Spirits today."

He almost laughed. Almost. He himself hadn't prayed to those forsaking, hypocritical beings since he was old enough to understand the religion. But she… she was different than he. She always prayed, so it didn't really surprise him that today was no different. She was a believer like that.

The elder sighed softly as she gently brushed her shoulder against his. Even if he had wanted to leave, and even if he felt like he had been left behind, he couldn't let go of Katara like that. Not her… not his sister. Just the thought that she had been praying for him—even if it was to some spiritual beings he knew didn't exist—nearly brought tears to his eyes. She really cared about him. She did. Even after all the times he had pushed her on the ice, or buried her in snowballs, or pulled out her hair loopies just to make her mad.

The twelve-year-old held an old wooden bowl in her hands, and she took off her mittens so she could dip a rag into the water. The boy said softly, "Really. What did you pray about today?"

His companion held the rag up to his face before sweeping it across his forehead. The fatty paint had been wiped away, revealing sun-kissed skin underneath. "Ah, there it is," she laughed, pulling back her parka sleeve to reveal similar smoothed skin underneath. She held it up to the free space over his eyes. "See that?" the younger said, comparing them. "We look the same." The thirteen-year-old held his breath as she continued to wipe away his layers.

The water in the bowl sloshed as she momentarily Waterbended a droplet of water above the wood. She couldn't meet his eyes, even as she felt his gaze turned toward her. "I prayed for you because I was scared," she admitted, her voice now fragile like a shattered looking-glass. "When you started getting ready, I really thought that you were going to leave with them, and just leave me and Gran-Gran."

He heard what she really said. _Just leave me._

She began smoothing away the paint again as she continued, "So I asked the Spirits to leave me someone. Anyone. A companion while everyone else abandoned us." She had to wipe away a quick tear. "I'm so thankful they heard me today… They didn't ignore my prayers. They just left me you."

He couldn't help the smile that split across his face. And you know, even those ships didn't seem very appealing anymore.

He finally understood what his father was talking about. He was needed here. Not out there, where he probably would've been next to useless anyway. (He was only thirteen, you know.)

And suddenly, Sokka couldn't imagine himself being anywhere but home.

* * *


	2. Wide Open Spaces

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Avatar_.

**Author's Notes:** Another oneshot that's been bothering me. Don't worry; _The Angel Experiment_ will be updated before Christmas… obviously… and I will also be posting a classic holiday-themed oneshot on Christmas Day exactly. Yay! :D So keep a lookout for both of those. And yes, this is a fic inspired by the song… but that doesn't mean I like who sings it!

Wide Open Spaces

Katara hummed as she did her work. Days at the icy South Pole were droll and boring, full of endless scrubbing that turned her fingers red and trudging through the snow that made her toes go numb. So she sang to make the work less boring and the snow less cold. But the main reason she did it was because she knew no different. The Water Tribe girl had been living like this her entire life; she knew nothing but the cold and the work and the thought of _"Oh my god will we live through the winter?"_

When her mother was alive, she did the same thing. Kaya had taught Katara to sing; and like most other instances, Katara had latched on to every word her mama had said and had taken it to heart. She treasured her mother's voice and tried to bring it back every way possible.

Her favorite things to sing were Water Tribe lullabies and ballads of beautiful princesses falling in love with fearsome yet kind warriors with blue eyes and soft hands.

But sometimes… occasionally… she would find herself humming along to dusty songs of the Air Nomads that hadn't been sung in nearly a century. Today was one of those days.

The edges of the metal pot felt heavy against her thin fingers as the giant, bulbous base thwacked against her knees with every step. Katara struggled to keep it under control but somehow managed nevertheless. At the moment, she was humming as she slowly made her way to her family's single tent.

"Hmm… hmm…" When she entered, Sokka was already there, bending over a wooden carving and meticulously slaving away at it. Katara set the pot down in the fire pit and kicked some furs out of the way. "A young girl's dream no longer hollow… it takes the shape of a place out West… But what it holds for her, she hasn't yet guessed—"

And sometimes, the freedom and joy of the song made her want to stand up and dance. The people of the Water Tribes had much spirit in them, even if they were deprived and scrabbling along the edge of existence. So Katara danced and let the song burst from her lungs. "She needed, wide open spaces—room to make her big mistakes. And she needed, new faces… she knows the high stakes, she knows the high stakes—"

Sokka flinched. He hated it when she sang like that. "Spirits, Katara!" he burst out in a frustrated, growling tone. "If you're gonna sing like that, at least do it somewhere where I can't hear you." The teen's brow knit together in agitation as he returned to his work.

His sister blew a raspberry in his direction and curled her lip before stomping out of the tent.

Sokka snorted. At last. Slowly, he drew his knife along the cylindrical piece of wood, smiling in satisfaction as a thin curling of bark fell to the ground. He coughed slightly… then felt a humming in his head. He discreetly looked around for Katara (no sign of her) before letting it out. "Hmm…" A little variation. "Hmm hmm…"

The tone was tiny and nearly silent, but Sokka couldn't stop it from sneaking past his lips. "He needs, wide open spaces—room to make his big mistakes. He needs, new faces… he knows the high stakes, knows the high stakes…" And with that, he smiled just a little bit.

'Cause everybody needed just a little bit of room to grow. Even those people who didn't believe it in the first place.

* * *


	3. Until You Break

**Disclaimer:** _Avatar_ is copyright Nickelodeon, Michael Dante DiMartino, and Bryan Konietzko.

**Author's Notes:** Another update for _Rip Tide_. I'm not quite sure where this is going, but it just popped into my head today. Such is the wonder of a drabble series' versatility. (:

Until You Break

Katara burst through the cold metal doors, erupting on-deck and rushing over to where her father and Bato were standing, still clad in their under-cover Fire Nation naval uniforms. Bato took one look at the tears in Katara's eyes before taking his leave of his chief.

"What's wrong, Katara?"

"He left." His daughter's voice was full of emotion and on the brink of breaking open. Emotions swirled within her body—her fists clenched, her whole body trembled.

"What?"

"Aang," she spat, frustrated. He just didn't get it. "He just took his glider and disappeared. He has this… ridiculous notion that he has to save the world alone. That it's all his responsibility. He thinks it's being brave, but it's not. It's selfish and stupid… We could be helping him! And I know the world needs him, but doesn't he know how much we need him, too? How could he just leave us behind?"

A moment for the words to seep in. Then, understanding passed over the elder warrior's softly-aged features. "You're talking about me, too. Aren't you."

The dam burst. Tears leaked from her crystalline eyes, and slim arms wrapped around her middle. Katara never looked so feminine and vulnerable. "How could you," she accused, more sobbing than furious. "We were so lost without you."

--

The lamplight was dim.

Dark shadows crept across the frozen wasteland. Even at the South Pole in the summer, when the sun sometimes never slept, this night seemed unusually dank. Gloomy clouds hovered close to the horizon as the entire Southern Water Tribe gathered around the eerie glow of the village's only lantern, held by their chief's son. His sister clung to him tightly, bright blue eyes frightened but reflecting a hope long forgotten to the others of the tribe.

A child cried, and his mother tried to quiet him. The men had gone off to war today, leaving behind only women and children… a grandmother… and two teenagers with far too much responsibility on their shoulders.

--

The teenage girl wept into her father's foreign uniform as he held her close to him. She cried and hugged Hakoda tight, afraid that if she let go, he would run away and they would never see each other again. Her voice was shaky and broken, laden with sorrow. "I understand why you left… but that didn't make it any easier to cope."

--

"Sokka, what are you doing?" Katara screeched at her brother.

He grunted, "I'm trying to help pitch Miss Ahna's tent." The boy currently had his hands full with a few poles that were far too long for him to balance; he tipped to each side, walking like a drunken sailor, but he finally managed to put them down beside a pile of seal skins and polar deerfox furs.

"Well, you can't. It's already dark, and we haven't even managed to start the village fire yet, much less get supper going. We're at least three days behind on laundry; do you think you could hurry up?"

Sokka bit his lip so hard it bled, Katara could tell. "I'm sorry, but I'm trying as hard as I can. Doing all this stuff isn't as easy as it looks, y'know."

Her voice was bitter. "Yeah, I know," she bit back. "Tell me about it. I've been washing your smelly socks for a _week_, at least; cooking your dinner every night; and not to mention the fact that I helped deliver Miss Ahna's baby last night." Katara's hips cocked dangerously. "Don't tell _me_ it's not as easy as it looks. Ever since Dad left, I've been working my butt off around this village!"

"Well, so have I!" Sokka's hands curled into fists at his sides, and his brow darkened under the shadow of the solo lantern. "I'm sorry if I'm too short to blow out the lantern at night; I'm sorry if I'm not strong enough to chop enough wood for the whole village by dusk; and I'm _sorry_ if I'm not _good_ enough for you!" A surprising tear slid down the boy's face, but he wiped it away quickly. "I'm doing my best, OK?"

Katara immediately felt guilty. She had just been so stressed and so angry… she hadn't even thought… "I'm sorry."

He sniffed and moved closer to her. "I don't think I can do this anymore, Katara," the boy admitted, blue eyes finding patterns in the snow. "I can't take care of an entire village… I can't hunt enough food to feed twenty-one people plus a polar bear-dog. I-It's just…"

"Too much responsibility?"

He nodded. Not that he was surprised. Blue met blue as the siblings collapsed into a shaky hug; it seemed like the only people in the world who understood their situation was each other.

--

Katara's tears had nearly dried themselves, leaving only a shallow, empty place where her sadness had been eating away at her heart. "It was so hard… but we did it, Dad. We worked until we broke." Hakoda placed a hand on his daughter's head as an understanding passed between them. He may have missed his children when they needed him the most, but he could still help them pick up all the pieces.

* * *


	4. Thief

**Disclaimer:** Sokka and Katara © Nickelodeon. I own this work of fiction.

**Author's Notes:** Soo… turns out I'm getting sponsored by an awesome website! I just gave the creator my permission to post my stuff on his page. He's none other than the awesome and talented FriendshipxOfxFire, also known as ItachixUchiha on deviantART. He's putting up an awesome Sokka-themed website, so if you have anything you'd like to contribute (fanfiction, fanart, photo manips, icons, banners, etc.), drop either him or me a line, and we'd be happy to work with you. (: The site can be found here—http:// bravexthexfurywebs .com/ index .htm This should take you right to the homepage (but remove the spaces first, please). It's still in the first conceptual stages of development, so we'll take all the help we can get. ;)

And on a completely random side note thingy, this one completely made me LOL. :D

Thief

Young Sokka awoke to the bright Arctic sun beaming directly into his eyes through a crack in the tent. He groaned and rolled over, but he knew that, inevitably, he had to get up sometime. He chanced a look across the small living space and noticed both Katara's and Gran-Gran's sleeping pallets were empty. Great. That meant they would want him up and running this early, too.

Clumsily, he rolled over and said a little "thank you" that he didn't accidentally knock over his spear again. That had been a disaster… He didn't need _another_ scar on his body, thank you very much.

The Water Tribe boy slowly rose to his feet and pulled his boots on, then taking a moment to smooth down his parka. It's not like they had special "sleeping garments" or anything in the Water Tribe. Pfft. How frivolous. And stupid. Sokka yawned and cracked his back, going through his daily routine of checking in the ice bowl because maybe, just maybe, today he would sprout some lip hair or something. So yeah, he wasn't quite a teenager yet, but checking for facial hair made him feel older and more manly.

That's just the way things went.

He moved toward the tent door before stopping abruptly. Oh wait. One more thing to do before he was presentable.

And then, disaster struck.

--

Katara started when she heard her brother yell from the inside of the tent. She and Gran-Gran picked up their baskets and made their way to the fire pit in the center of the village just as soon as Sokka emerged from the tent.

His dark brown hair was hanging in his eyes, and his face was screwed up in a look of childish anger. "What the heck, Katara?!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. The rest of the Southern Water Tribe paused momentarily to watch the (infamous) unfolding sibling drama.

She blinked large blue eyes at him. "What what?" was her innocent reply.

"The crap, you know what I'm talking about! Where is my hair tie?" The boy began gesturing furiously at his head. So she was obviously supposed to notice the hair hanging in his face and the odd gesticulations.

"Oh… sorry," his sister apologized, "but I couldn't find mine, so I just used yours."

"Katara, that is not OK! I _need_ that hair tie or else… or else…" Sokka struggled for words. "…Or else I can't make my usual hairstyle!"

Katara couldn't resist the urge to tease him. "Aww, poor baby. Need an elastic for your ponytail?"

He huffed indignantly, "It is _not_ a ponytail; it's a warrior's _wolf_ tail, and you of all people should know how much it means to me."

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

"Just give it back Katara," he whined.

"No way! I'm using it!"

He tackled her into the snow and started pulling on her braid. "Give it!" She screamed at him and nearly clawed his eyes out right then. They started rolling around in the middle of the village, neither one giving up dominance over the other. Finally, he hung onto her just long enough to pull the hair tie from the end of her long braid.

"Ow! Gran-Gran!"

"Sokka!" The old woman swatted his backside. "Off, right now."

He grinned triumphantly and held up his prize. "Aha—OW! GRAN-GRAN, SHE BIT ME!"

* * *


	5. First Time Fliers

**Disclaimer:** _Avatar_ © Nick

**Author's Notes:** Yeah… I update this too much. But I've just got so many good ideas for this story, and I can't stop churning them out! I know I'm kinda neglecting my other stories… but jeez. This is just too good.

* * *

First-Time Fliers

_It's strange_, Katara thought, _to think that I'm actually sitting on this thing's __**head**__._

It was surprisingly soft, actually. The bison's—Appa, that's his name—fur was thick and made a very nice cushion for her to sit on. The Waterbender girl clutched the leather reins tightly, afraid that if she let go, she might fall into the deathly cold Arctic waters below.

But right now, Appa wasn't doing much of anything. The bison was just sort of meandering, swimming through the water lazily; apparently, the chill of the South Pole couldn't penetrate his thick layers of fur and skin beneath. The girl was frustrated, flicking the reins occasionally as her brother mumbled random words from the saddle straddling the great beast's back. "Go," he uttered sardonically. "Fly. Soar."

Katara turned her attention back to Appa. Aang had said he could fly, and she believed him. Now she just had to make Sokka believe it too.

"Come on, Appa," she pleaded, "don't listen to him. I know you can fly; Aang told me so." The bison groaned beneath her, but his large brown eyes were still half-lidded in content lethargy.

Sokka continued his skepticism. "Up. Ascend. Elevate."

"Appa!" Katara exclaimed. "Let's go! We need to help Aang. Please." Her voice was thick. Why wouldn't he just go already? She knew he could, and didn't he want to help save his friend? "Aang's in trouble."

Her brother scratched his chin mock-thoughtfully. "Let's see… what did that bald kid say?" By now, Katara had hung her head in defeat and was ignoring Sokka; nothing could get this massive beast out of the water. Maybe… maybe Sokka was right, and he really _couldn't_ fly like Aang had said— "Yeehaw? Wahoo? Hup hup? Uh… yip yip?"

Immediately, Appa's eyes flew open, and he bellowed loudly. The beast flapped his massive tail and propelled himself and his riders high above the water, all six legs working together in the air. Sokka had a stunned look on his face as he clawed for a hold on the lip of the saddle. Katara's eyes lit up as she whooped aloud. Aang was right! Appa really _could_ fly! "That's it, Sokka!" she shouted over the frigid air whipping against her face.

Her brother gripped the saddle tightly and flailed around in excitement. "Oh my god… Katara! Katara, he's flying! He's actually, actually…"

She shot him a smug look. _I told you so._

Instantly, Sokka's enthusiasm evaporated. His sister couldn't be right _again_. That was just stupid. The tribesman cleared his throat. "Ah… I mean, big deal. We're flying." But when he turned his attention back to the ocean just fifty feet below, he couldn't stop the small smile that crept across his face. He, Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe, was FLYING. That was… completely unheard of. The furthest he had ever been off the ground was probably the tip of an iceberg, and that was nothing compared to this.

Katara was thinking the same thing. "Just think of it, Sokka… We're the first non-Air Nomads in one hundred years to fly above the ground on a sky bison."

Her brother was once again startled by her declamation but waved it off with a gloved hand. "'S no big deal, 'Tara," he slurred. "Anybody coulda done it."

"Yeah…" She leaned back and settled into the crook of Appa's neck. "Anybody _could've_ done it, but I don't think they were supposed to. I'm glad it's us flying on this Airbender's bison and not just _anybody_."

Sokka shrugged and turned his attention back to the sea. He was never one to believe all that "destiny" stuff. Still, this whole "finding some 100-year-old Airbender in an iceberg" thing seemed a little too ironic. Destiny was a load of crap, and fate was a buncha bullhockey, but he couldn't deny just how crazy-weird and messed up this seemed.

Ah well. He sighed and took another deep breath of salty air, listening as the wind whistled past his ears. This was _way_ better than chopping firewood and doing chores all day. And the bit of adrenaline that surged through his veins at this strange sensation—Spirits, he was _flying_—didn't hurt his newfound opinion, either. He suddenly loved the freedom of the sky and the rush he got when he saw the rippling ocean so far below.

"OK, Katara," the brother conceded, finally responding to her statement, "I guess you're right. Now let's just keep on going and save your _boyfriend_."

She spun around in her seat so fast that _Sokka_ got whiplash just watching her. "He's NOT my boyfriend!" she declared heatedly.

Sokka wanted to scoff and point out the pink tinting her cheeks, but he knew better. He held up a pacifying hand. "Whatever." They both turned away from each other, grunting in anger or slight frustration. Katara took hold of the reins once again, and Sokka stared at the ocean as it passed by. He had never seen it from this far up before.

The wind slowed down and caressed their faces instead of whipping their dark hair into rats' nests. Appa grunted softly as the sea lapped against the glaciers' icy peaks. And then the siblings both had the same thought—

_So this is what freedom feels like._

* * *


End file.
